


Nyotaimori

by HazelDomain



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Body Shots, F/M, Groping, HazelDomain can tell when you're being a, Honestly?, How is Nyotaimori not a tag, I gotta tell you, If you ain't got your hand up, Kissing, Nyotaimori, Raise your hand if you'd do a body shot of chocolate syrup off Sam Winchester, Sam has a weird job, Strippers, club full of middle aged women, dubcon, liiiiiiiii-aaaaaar, with chocolate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-07-22 05:59:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7422634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HazelDomain/pseuds/HazelDomain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam took a weird job in college. We've all been there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nyotaimori

  

He wasn’t supposed to be one of the performers. This was never supposed to happen.

Though it was probably just a matter of time.

Sam sighed, looking up at the blinking neon lights on the ceiling. He was supposed to have been a _bartender,_ for christ’s sake.

The thing about being a drifter your whole life is, you pick up a couple skills. Dean? Dean could fix cars. And Sam could tend bar. It was just one of those things- if you need a job short-term and you could do the work without skimming the register or fighting the clients, some jobs, you could get _anywhere._

Or, almost anywhere. Because it turned out that in a college town in California, ‘skilled drifter’ was kind of a big demographic. So a couple weeks after Sam got off the bus, he found himself running short on cash, and that’s when he discovered the chronic shortage of available positions in the town’s _copious_ drinking establishments.

He’d gone from bar to bar, dropping off copies of his almost-entirely-falsified resume, and he’d finally hit on a winner. Well, kind of a winner.

He should have figured it out when he had to walk through _three_ bachelorette parties in order to get to the bar. And hey, maybe the music was a bit loud and the lights were colorful and the drink list was a bit… fruity. But after eighteen outright dismissals, Sam didn’t particularly care if the atmosphere was a bit weird.

To make a long story short, Sam got the job and it wasn’t until his first shift that he saw the place empty and realized he’d gotten hired at a strip club.

Which, fine. It was a steady paycheck and he wasn’t a stranger to being a bouncer, he could handle a couple rowdy drunks.

Only then the club had filled with women and the first performer had come out onto stage with a rippling six pack and a banana hammock and Sam realized exactly what he’d signed up for.

 

Some movie somewhere extolled the wisdom of hitting on the wait staff instead of the strippers, because they didn’t make as much and didn’t get as much obvious attention. Sam could tell when women were using this approach. He wasn’t above milking his looks for a couple extra bucks in the tip jar.

He started wearing tight v-necks, showing off his hunter’s body, and he made good money. Good enough to keep the lights on in his apartment, in any case. His roomies heckled him, but he had the feeling they’d do that no matter _where_ he worked.

 

And it had all been fine for a couple months.

And then the owner had gotten an idea, that he wanted Sam’s help with.

Nyotaimori.

 

Originally, Sam learned, it was supposed to be done with sushi. But sushi was risky and hard to make and anyway, they didn’t want the health department called on them. So the owner wanted to try it with chocolate.

And he wanted Sam to do it.

At first Sam refused- he wasn’t interested in being used as a plate, no matter how good the money was. But the owner begged and wheedled and eventually threatened and that’s how he ended up here, laying on his back as his coworker, Jess, laid a collection of food across his body.

 

It felt weird, to say the least. For starters, he’d gone out the day before and had a bunch of stuff _waxed,_ to give Jess a smooth and relatively clean surface to work with. It made his skin sensitive, even the feeling of his clothes was different without the buffer of his body hair.

Jess had a table laid out and he’d stared at it with trepidation before reluctantly agreeing to strip and climb on.

It was a new experience, being naked in public and in front of people he _knew,_ but it was a little different since almost everyone else here was a stripper and he’d seen them naked a hundred times. A couple guys whistled when they came in- they’d been asking for weeks when he’d finally take the plunge and come be ‘one of the guys.’

Jess took pity on him and brought out a hollow bowl, covered with fake flowers, that she laid over his groin. It didn’t cover much but he was grateful at least for that much.

And then she started.

 

There were four chocolate fountains in the corners of the table, and Jess set them to start heating up as she began to decorate Sam.

He closed his eyes and tried to retreat to his happy place, a place where a coworker was not covering his naked body with concentric rings of differently-colored cookies and candy. His hips and chest were adorned with chilled fruit and he shivered as a drop of icy juice rolled down his ribs. She laid out rows of small chocolates down his legs and then finally, after almost twenty minutes, she declared he was done. The music was ramping up, the party was twittering excitedly from the lobby.

“You ready, Sam?” Jess asked, and Sam nodded. He kept his eyes closed.

“As I ever will be.”

“I got you something.”

He turned his head slightly and saw that she was holding out a mask, ornate and gilded gold. He let out a little laugh.

“Didn’t even occur to me,” he said truthfully, and she laughed back, high and tinkling, like bells.

“I know. Close your eyes.”

He did, and she settled the mask over his face. It cleaved to his forehead and cheekbones like it had been made for him. He opened his eyes, looking out at Jess through the jeweled eye holes.

“Thank you.”

“What are friends for? Open your mouth.”

He did, and she set a chocolate gently between his teeth. He held it carefully, and wasn’t particularly surprised when she sealed it in place with a kiss.

“We ought to try this ourselves sometime, Winchester,” she murmured, and he couldn’t reply.

 

The door opened a couple minutes later and the room was filled with people. Not a bachelorette party this time- from the scattered bits of conversation, he gathered that the woman of honor was a lawyer, celebrating her recent divorce.

The music kicked into high gear and he heard them cheering as one of the other guys took to the stage. He kept his eyes closed, focused on keeping his hands lax on the table.

Women wandered past, taking items off his body, making comments and giggling over whispered comments about what they’d do to him, given half the chance.

Two hours. The gig was two hours and then he was done. He just had to put up with it for two hours.

Fingertips plucked a slice of strawberry off his belly, and the juice went dripping down his side. He shivered, and the woman laughed, pinching one of his nipples before she walked away.

Sam kept his eyes closed.

The chocolate in his mouth was melting and he focused on that, being careful not to bite it in half, not to drop it. He counted the songs- he knew how long they were, they were edited for time. He could count off the time by the songs.

Someone peeked under the flowered bowl and there was a flurry of laughter as she withdrew her hand with an embarrassed shriek. Sam felt himself blushing.

He wondered if Jess could see, or if her view from the bar was blocked by the women filling the room.

The women surrounding him let out another gale of excited laughter, and the music turned down. A moment later, something hot was pouring across his chest, pooling in his belly, and the smell of warm chocolate filled the air.

The chocolate dripped over his body, hot and smooth, and the women were absolutely _roaring._ A moment later, a woman picked up a piece of chocolate-drizzled melon off his hip- using her mouth. He felt her lips ghosting over the hairless skin and whimpered- he couldn’t help it.

No one could hear him over the music, and even better, no one could see his eyes behind the mask. He squeezed them tight as another woman took a chocolate off his chest, her hot tongue lapping up a smear of cooling sauce.

 _Don’t get hard,_ Sam begged himself. _Don’t get hard. Don’t get hard._

Teeth nipped at his thigh and he twitched slightly, drawing laughter from the crowd. There were more of them now, gathered around, though he could tell from the music that another one of the dancers was on stage. Alcide, if he had to guess by the song.

There were hands on him now, taking more of the treats, fingers and tongues dipping into the dripping chocolate.

Sugar-sweet filled his mouth and he realized he’d bitten into the chocolate- it was a cherry cordial, and the syrup dripped over his tongue through the cracked shell.

He let the sweet drop into his mouth and sucked it gently, using the flavor to distract him from the giggling women.

The song changed again. Almost over now. He just had to keep from getting hard for another fifteen minutes, twenty tops, and then? By god, he was going to _quit._

He let his hunter training take over, slipping into the space he’d learned to use for things like broken bones or blood loss. It could keep pain out. It could keep this out too.

 

The next thing he heard was Jess’s voice.

“You with me, Winchester? Or did those old bags suck you dry?”

“Yeah,” he muttered, looking up at her and blinking. “Yeah, I’m here. Sorry. What’s up?”

“Everybody’s gone,” Jess laughed. “Did you fall asleep or what?”

“I must have,” he agreed, raising his hand to push the mask off his face. Jess caught his arm.

“You still got some chocolate on you there. And your, ah- your bowl’s come loose at some point.” Her eyes twinkled mischievously. “An honest accident, I’m sure.”

He rolled his eyes.

“Get this crap off me, I’m going home.”

“Sure, sure. Quick question though. You want me to use a towel?” She lifted up the terrycloth bar rag so he could see. “Or you want me to do it the slow way?”

She leaned over, catching one of the remaining sweets between her lips, sucking gently as she plucked it off his body.

Sam paused.

“Option C,” he said at last. “I’m gonna go shower all this crap off me, and then you let me take you to dinner. Deal?”

She pretended to consider.

“Throw in the peanut butter cup on your mons and you’ve got a deal.”

“That’s still there?!”

Jess laughed, leaning down.

“Not for long.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Have some dubcon, ya filthy animals. 
> 
> I cleaned out some tabs today- prompts from months past where I'm just like "I like 'em, but they're never gonna be at the top of my list." 
> 
> So if a cold chill ran down your back around 6PM eastern time, it might have been me, closing your kink_meme prompt. Condolences. 
> 
> In other news: my mom's been visiting all week and now that she's gone I'm gonna churn out some really really filthy porn. 
> 
> Though my bestie and I are going to visit Old Orchard Beach tomorrow. Never been there, so, that will be nice. It's a four hour drive so I will probably sketch out some more fills on the way.


End file.
